Grande Iced Cinnamon Dolce Latte
by Scare4irony
Summary: AU: Their first major interaction involved a trade of insults.


AN: Sam is about 20, Dean is 24. AU :) Probably my first really drastically different story based on SPN. Multiple POV.

* * *

**GRANDE ICED CINNAMON DOLCE LATTE **

The cold winter's day left him to seek refuge in a cosy little coffee house just off the main campus. His cheeks were tinged with red and he swore that frostbite was getting to his toes.

Inside, the cafe buzzed with life that just wasn't present outside in the mind numbing cold. Scores of people were hunching around tables nursing warm cups of coffee, chattering about upcoming holidays filling what could have been dreary silence.

"Jess!" he yelled above the din of the crowd. Making out the darts of blonde curly hair, he began following. "Jess?" he turned direction thinking that the voice of his girlfriend moved.

"Stay where you are!" Listening to her, he stayed perfectly still within the thrum of passing bodies. "Found you," a voice whispered behind him. "If you stayed still, I would have gotten to you sooner."

"Yeah why?" Sam said hugging her.

"Let's just say it's a benefit of having a giant for a boyfriend," she laughed. "Usual?" He nodded sitting on the newly vacated seat near the counter. "Are you sure you don't want to take the job?"

"Jess I told you, I'd be crap at it. Safer to find someone else," Sam said, his eyes flicked down to his watch he jumped. "Oh...oh crap! I'm late for my lecture. I'll see you when I get home!" Grabbing the coffee cup he made his way past people and out into the cold.

Jess chuckled to herself quietly and began wiping down the bench when a shadow loomed over her. "Can I help you?" she asked slowing down her movements to take in the sight of the man.

"I heard there was an opening here..."

** _?_?_**

The line was long and he was moving as fast as he possible could. _Why did I get a job here?_ he thought to himself and gave the young red head a charming smile. She blushed and giggled turning on her heel, iced coffee in hand.

"Dean you're doing great, I think you're ready to fly solo," the woman next to him smiled. Her blonde hair was swept into a lose bun and a black apron was tied around her waist, immaculately clean compared to his own which had taken the brunt of several hot coffees in the span of two hours.

Turning slightly he gave her a wink. "Really think so Jess?" His finesse was quickly lost however as the metal jug met the cold tiles below. "Shit, I'm so sorry," he began crouching on his knees and looking up over the counter to apologise to the young man before him.

"Uh...no, it's okay."

"Go back and grab the mop," Jessica sighed watching Dean stand and look slightly flustered. Offering him a wide grin, she assured him that he wouldn't be fired and that he'd get the hang of it sooner or later.

Dean muttered something about sooner being not soon enough, but one look from Jess made him calmer and less tense. "Sorry about the coffee," he apologised again to the man. "Maybe not solo yet. Hey Jess?" He winked at her darting into the back.

"That the new guy?" Sam asked. "Seems...nice enough."

"Sam, c'mon he's nervous - he'll get the hang of it, he was actually getting used to it before he saw you, must've been your height?" Jess smirked grabbing a polystyrene cup from the pile.

Sam mocked hurt clutching his chest, "So many height jokes. Hurts so much," he laughed. "So, what's his story?"

Jess gave him a look. "I don't know, Dean hasn't said much to anyone - though he is great with customers." The look on Sam's face was apprehensive. "Don't panic or anything, you know I'm a good judge of character."

"But Jess, you said so yourself you don't know anything about him." Sam protested quietly watching said mystery fight with the broom closet. Mops were falling from the space and his futile efforts to trap them back in were comical to watch. "He could be a loon, or murderer or a manic, or psychopath-"

"_Or_ he could be a great guy who likes his privacy." She looked over her shoulder and then back to her boyfriend. "He is perfectly non loony. Remember how long it took for you to say something to me? Six months of sideward glances before _I_ asked you out.

"Okay...fine," huffed Sam picking up the cup. Warmth radiated from it creeping through his fingertips and into his bloodstream.

**_?_?_**

"Grande iced cinnamon dolce latte. Thanks." Sam did not expect the snort from the barista's mouth. "Problem?"

His first expression was one of horror before morphing into mild amusement. It seemed like he was valiantly trying to suppress a chuckle, plastering on a well-designed poker face. "No, no nothing wrong. Just, figures."

Sam pursed his lips. ""Excuse me?" A moment of silence passed between the two men before curiosity got the better of the youngest. "What's wrong with my choice of coffee?" he asked petulantly.

"What's wrong?" Dean parroted. "What's right?" He wiped the remnants of milk on his apron and added various flavours to the warming liquid. "What ever happened to just 'black coffee'? Since when did coffee become sissy?"

"Sissy? That is not sissy." Sam crossed his arms. "It's coffee."

"Girly."

"Yummy."

"Fake."

Irritation crept into his voice. "Well I like it."

"Yeah, you would Francis."

"Francis? Dude my name is Sam."

"Yeah, I know. Jess' boyfriend." Dean stuck his hand out. "Dean."

**_?_?_**

Sam's next coffee stop occurred a week later. Half-lidded from lack of sleep he slouched in his chair, cheek meeting the cool table.

"Drink." The voice came out of nowhere.

Sluggishly he looked up meeting green eyes. "Hey, how are you man?"

"Me? I'm just peachy. You on the other don't look so great. Therefore, coffee. On the house. Drink it."

"Thanks but I can't-" he protested.

Dean fixed him with a hard stare, moving the cup closer towards him. "You can and will."

When he didn't move away he admitted defeat. "Fine." He took a sip surprised at the choice.

"It's right, right? The girly drink? I even put chocolate sprinkles in it."

Blinking stupidly Sam gestured at the set opposite him. "Yeah. Uh, you want a seat?"

Dean looked over his shoulder to where Lucas was mopping the floor. "Alright if I take five?"

"Place is pretty dead. Go for it."

Dean pulled out the offered seat and sat down.

"So what brings you to campus? Surely it wasn't the fantastic job opportunity?"

"Nah, nothing like that."

"You here for study?"

"Dude? Do I look geek-chic. I'm not you."

"I never said you were me and I'm not a geek."

"Whatever." Dean looked out the window. "Just looking for someone."

Sam waited for more information but all he received was a quiet huff of breath. "I could help if you want? Ask around. I'm sure someone-"

"Dean, sorry to cut the chat, but looks like we got a rush on. It's the exam-crammer-zombies."

"Exam-crammer zombies?" Dean stood with a sigh.

"Man, there all brain dead...I swear, it's just grunting. If it's really bad they just stand at point at the board. Sorry Sam gotta go. Don't work too hard though, you really look like shit."

"I don't think you can talk to customers like that." Dean laughed. "Thanks for the sprinkles!"

**_?_?_**

"Salad? No. _Only _salad?" Dean frowned.

"You sound like my mom. Are you going to have issues with everything I order?" Sam winced at the sharpness of his tone.

"I'll just grab your drink then, shall I?"

When he returned Sam offered him a small smile. "I shouldn't have snapped." He collapsed onto the stool. "It's just this stupid unfinished paper. My professor's harassing me over it."

"You want me to take care of it?"

He let curiosity get the better of him, half willing to accept any of Dean's upcoming suggestions. "Um...how would you go about doing that?"

Without hesitation Dean answered. "Dunno, I could always kill him?" It was said with so much certainty that for a brief moment the man made him uneasy. Crap, Jess really had hired a psychopath. When he didn't say anything Dean grinned. "That was a joke, Sammy."

Releasing a rush of air, Sam glared. "Firstly, don't call me Sammy. The name's Sam. Secondly, I'm taking law. I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk of murder. I don't want to be an accessory and have my career over before I even graduated...it was a nice sentiment though."

A paper bag was thrust out in front of him. "Take it." Dean waved the bag around slightly.

He opened the bag. "Muffins? I didn't pay for these."

"My treat. I think you get grumpy when you don't eat sugar. Go finish your paper Sammy." Dean grinned at him.

"Don't call me Sammy." He glared back grabbing his books and left.

**_?_?_**

He accidently bumped into someone cursing as his coffee spilled onto his hands. "Shit."

"Hey watch where your-Sam?"

He looked up from his hands that were red and tingly. "Dean."

"Crap. C'mon," before he could protest Dean had manhandled him though the café and into the kitchen. "It should be cold enough," Dean said forcing his hand under the cold spray. "I was late, wasn't watching where I was going," he said throwing his jacket into a little room behind the kitchen and tying an apron around his waist. "Girly drink again Samantha?"

"It's not girly," Sam mumbled.

"Give me a few." Dean disappeared to the front of the house for a few moments, coming back with a large coffee to go. "Take this too." Drying his hands with a dishtowel Sam opened the bag to find cookies. "Consider it as an apology for burning your hands when you still have to type out your paper."

"Jess tell you I hadn't finished?"

"Complained, tell, same difference. She reckons you're not going to finish."

"Why would she think that?"

"Because that's what I think."

"And you reasoning is?"

"Gut instinct." Dean held out his hands. "Hasn't steered me wrong yet."

Sam thought for a moment. "Is that why you think you'll find what you're looking for here?"

"I guess." Dean shuffled next to him.

"You sure you don't want any help?"

"I doubt you could."

"Give me a name at least?"

"Sam."

Surprise flickered across his face. "What?"

"That's the name of the person I was looking for. Or at least that's what his records say."

"Records?"

"Adoption records...they're pretty shit, though I didn't help very much, didn't tell them my last name. I don't remember much. I was only a kid...I barely remember him."

Sadness watched over him. "What happened?"

Dean moved, bustling Sam out of the kitchen. "I don't think this is very good conversation. You still have a paper to write."

**_?_?_**

Today was crap. Just all round crap. He should've seen that it would get worse when he saw Sam pacing across the street as if he was debating on whether to enter. When Sam eventually made his mind up he walked in made straight for him.

Sam was silent for a few minutes standing next to him as he scrubbed down a table. "I have a friend who could help you...with finding Sam."

Stiffening his shoulders he rubbed the table harder, hunching over a little. "Not today Sam."

"Bad day?"

He fought a sigh, moving onto the next table. People were so messy. What the hell? There was more food on the table then on the actual plates. Picking up the dishes he moved them to one side of the table before wiping it down. "Everything is fine."

The plates fell to the floor, shattering into pieces.

"Fine huh?" Sam spoke quietly, crouching to clean up.

Dean let his shoulders sag. "What gave it away?"

"Whilst I was outside, I watched three girls leave with watery eyes. Half the staff is trying to avoid you."

"Spying?"

Sam gave him a look. "Maybe you should take a walk?"

He could do without the advice. His dad's last piece of advice had been to keep his mouth shut under all circumstances. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sam stand up and hold a hand out to him to help him up. He ignored it, stepping back so there was some space between them. "Maybe you should mind your own business."

"You definitely need to take a walk." Did the guy ever quit?

"Leave. Now," his voice was loud. People were staring. Sam grabbed him by the elbow pulling him out of the café. "Sam! What the hell man? I was working! I swear if you don't let go of me soon I'm gonna hit you."

"You can try." Sam replied slowing down the pace and finally letting him go. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing is going on!"

"Dean. You're yelling. You never yell!" Seriously? Walking a few steps forwards he swung around. "We see each other a couple of times a month, for what a like an hour and you think you deserve to know my life story?"

Hurt flashed across Sam's face and for a brief moment he felt guilty.

"I want to help you...because; I'd like to think we're friends. And you don't have to tell _me_, just someone."

"What like therapy?" he scoffed. "Want me to join a support group? Sit around a camp fire? Maybe we'll all hold hands and sing sad songs about how much our lives suck. Maybe we'll cry out rivers of pain?"

"Don't be an asshole. All I'm saying is that something is obviously bugging you, hell looking for Sam and still not finding him is probably driving you mad. I just want to help. Why is it so hard for you to accept that?"

Stalking over to a bench, he paced in front of it for a few moments. "They told me that _they_ were going to help." Sam came over and sat down. "And then they took him away." He wasn't going to say anymore. It wasn't Sam's problem. Sam should've been concerned about upcoming exams, not...not him. "You should head back."

"It can wait."

"Sam-"

"It can wait." The look Sam fixed him brooked no argument. "What happened, Dean? Why did they take him away?"

"CPS found me and Sam in this crappy apartment when I was about four. I guess someone tipped them off, I dunno. They brought us back and Sam was crying and I hugged him because he only listened to me. They asked me all these questions but I wouldn't say anything. Dad told me to never say anything."

"Your dad...he didn't…" Sam's voice trailed off, but there was a meaningful look in his eyes.

"Jesus, no. Never."

"Good," Sam let out a breath.

"CPS kept us for a while but then all these families started to drop by. They fell in love with Sam at first sight. Me, not so much. I...I unnerved them apparently. I didn't talk...just stared at them, watched them interact with Sammy. Two months later they told me to say goodbye. Sam was going to live with someone else. I cried a lot, wouldn't let him go. They were worried that I might accidently strangle him 'cause I was squeezing so tight."

"The family still wouldn't take you?"

"They watched the whole thing from the corridor. I had gone from dead silent and creepy to screaming murderous banshee. As soon as they pried him away from me, he was gone."

"That's not fair!"

He shrugged his shoulders, nothing he could do about it now. "Another couple of months later an uncle of mine came and took me in. Said he'd been search for me a long time."

"But, the records. Once your uncle came they must have put everything together?"

"By the time he got me, Sam's records were sealed. I never said anything, never gave them a last name to put on Sam's file. Do you know how many Sam's there are in the system? A freaking lot. Bobby, my uncle; he's been really good to me. Ever since I was a kid he's been helping me track Sam down. I used to bug him every weekend about Sammy. It's taken years but we've narrowed it down to this side of the country at least." The attempt at humour fell flat.

"Woah. That's…" Sam was lost for words.

Dean stood up leaving Sam on the bench. "There we have it. My life story. I hope you're happy."

**_?_?_**

"I'm sure everything is fine now. Dean's` forgiven you. The staff is starting to ask questions. They think you had an argument over me. He's confused. He asked me why you never come in anymore." Jessica looked at him accusingly from behind her textbook.

He was totally _not_ avoiding Dean.

Really he wasn't.

He was just giving Dean his space.

**_?_?_**

There he was. The mop of brown hair racing past the front window. It was quiet enough for him to slip out for a few moments before he broke out into a jog.

"Sam, wait!" Sam ducked under low tree branch stepping inside the alcove of the bookstore. Dean slowed, hovering outside the doorway. In the shadows he could see Sam's fingers curled around the strap of his back-pack. "You've been avoiding me."

"I have not!" The petulance in his tone was amusing.

"I'm not angry." He had walked away from Sam with a curt 'see you around' before returning to work where the staff gave him a wide berth for the remainder of the day. He was completely fine for his next shift, with everyone just chalking it up to a bad day. "I'm over it. But," he let a little bit of annoyance enter his voice, "this doesn't mean you have a right to pull that crap if something is bothering me and you want to know what."

"'Kay." Sam nodded his head.

"Good. Trust me, if I never wanted to see your face again, you would know about it." He offered Sam a smile. "You don't have to be coffee deprived anymore."

"Well I wouldn't exactly call it _deprived_…"

Dean let out a gasp. "You've been coffee-cheating on me? You know what, no more extra cookies for you!"

**_?_?_**

Sam shuffled forwards in the queue rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.

"Next. Hey Sam." He stared for a few minutes at Dean who cocked an eyebrow. Yawning, he vaguely gestured to the board. "See, I told you exam-cramming-zombies man. Take a seat."

Dragging his feet, he made it to the end of the counter, pillowing his head in his arms as he leaned forwards.

He must've fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, Dean was shaking his shoulder saying something about '_closing time'_ and _'I'll drop you off home'. _He tried to protest but Dean took him by the elbow out to where his car sat.

"Nice ride," he mumbled folding himself into the leather seat.

"I'd like to think so." Sam didn't notice Dean's lips purse as he held the coffee cup in sleep-addled fingers. "If you drop that coffee in her I'll kick you out." It didn't sound like he was joking. "Sam, address?" Dean asked as he pulled away from the curb. Sam replied in semi-intelligent English.

He woke up again, panicking slightly taking in the unfamiliar interior of the car. "Wha-"

"Hey Sammy, you're home." Dean held the door open for him, taking some of Sam's belongs and placing a hand on his shoulder to steer him into the building. When they finally got outside his door Dean let go, the warmth immediately vanishing into nothingness. "Well then college-boy, I've done my civic duty, making sure your virtue is intact and whatever...so I'm gonna head of now."

Still half asleep Sam lazily opened the door and staggered in. "Wann'a coffee?"

"No, I'm alright. You should get some sleep Sam."

"Can't. I gotta work."

"What are you? A machine? You were actually sniffling in my car.

"Was not."

"How would you know? You were conked out, remember. You've come into the shop nearly every day. I've seen you stress out. Jess is only starting to hit the panic button, you...Sam, you're body's gonna hate you."

Sam pouted. "I hate you."

"Bitch."

Sam's mouth dropped. "Jerk!"

Dean smiled. "Take it a little easier. Don't burn out."

"A-a-alright, I guess. Hey that's min-" he began as Dean came towards him plucking the coffee cup out from his hand.

"Since you won't need this tonight, I could use this for the ride home." He walked out the door. "Bye Sammy!"

**_?_?_**

"Hey. I haven't seen Dean around in a while."

"Oh, yeah. Um, he left a few days ago."

"Left?"

"He quit. Said it was time to move on. Tried calling him to reconsider but the number doesn't work." Sam couldn't mask the little bit of hurt that slipped over his face. Jess gave him a soft look crouching down beneath the counter and pulling out an envelope. "Told me to give you this though." Sam took the envelope from her outstretched hand quirking his lips as she begged him to fill Dean's place until she could find someone else to take over. Shaking his head in the negative he ripped the envelope open and pulled out the note.

_Hey Sam. _

_I'm skipping town. _

_Haven't been able to find what I was looking for - I guess the information I got was wrong, so much for my gut, huh? _

_I'm not exactly where I'll be heading next, but I will be back later at Jess' insistence. She is one scary woman when she wants to be. _

_Dean._

There was no number.

He handed the note to Jessica and double checked the envelope His eyes widened slightly as he pulled out a small worn out, yet glossy photo.

"It's nice to know the extent of my power," she laughed before noting a stricken expression on Sam's face. "What's wrong?" His hand was shaking and he was breathing heavy. His hand clutched a photo. "Sam?" Quietly she placed her hand on Sam's arm leaning over the counter to take a better look at the photo. "Cute baby," she said noting the big wide eyes and chubby cheeks.

Sam's voice cracked, bordering hysterical. "Jess…"

His parents had exact same picture of him in a scrap book titled 'Our Little Boy'.

"What Sam?"

"Dean. He was looking for me."

* * *

AN: Ohhh, cruel aren't I? Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are love.


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